


Turkey Down

by ariaadagio



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Dialogue prompts, F/M, Fluffy, Holiday Feast, Humor, Lucifer Bingo, Or Christmas, Silly, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariaadagio/pseuds/ariaadagio
Summary: In which Lucifer smites a bit (okay, a lot) more than he should.  Response to the Lucifer Bingo prompt, "damages," and the dialogue prompt, "Put the turkey down."





	Turkey Down

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little silly something I whipped up on the fly. My first ever prompt fic. Hope you enjoy!

“Put the turkey down,” Chloe says (or perhaps shouts), half-deaf from the screaming smoke alarms.

Lucifer frowns at the charred, smoking wreckage. “But—”

“Lucifer,” Chloe says, “put. The turkey. Down.”

“But perhaps I can—”

“Give it up. There’s no saving it.”

He sighs, shoving it back into the oven and backing away with a grimace. “I ... suppose you’ll want to know how this happened.”

Chloe folds her arms, quirking an eyebrow at him. The rumbling sounds of conversation float in from the living room. “I think I know what happened.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he mutters, looking away.

“Did you fry it?” Maze says blandly as she tromps toward the refrigerator to grab a fresh beer. She glances over her shoulder. “You want one, too?”

“Yes, please,” Linda calls back.

“I did _not_ fry it,” Lucifer grumbles, straightening.

Ella snorts. “Dude. I can smell it out here.  Give up the ghost.”

“I roasted it,” he insists. “It’s roasted. Not fried.”

“Yeah,” says Dan as he appears to inspect the damages. “At what? A zillion degrees?”

Lucifer sighs. “More like ten thousand or so.”

“So, it’s _fried_ ,” Dan says.

“And I guess that’s it, then,” Chloe says. “No way we’re getting a replacement bird, now.” With a sigh, she grabs Lucifer by his jacket sleeve and drags him toward the dining room table, away from prying ears. “Lucifer, why did you insist you could do this if you—”

“It’s _your_ bloody fault!” he snaps.

“Me?” she says, blinking. “What did _I_ do?”

“I mean, I was only going to give it a little zap, you see, but then you walked by wearing—” His gaze roves her head to toe in a way that suggests she’s not wearing anything at all. “—well, that—” Blush unfurls across her cheeks and down her throat. “—and I got bloody distracted.”

“You think _this_ is sexy enough to smite a turkey?” she blurts.  _This_ being the festively-red maxi dress she bought on clearance at Macy’s. For $12.

“I … like red,” he confesses with a shrug.

Her eyebrows knit. “ _You_ like red?”

“Yes.”

“ _You_. _You_ like red.”

“Is this … not what I just said?” he replies, frowning.

She clears her throat. “I’m sorry. It’s just ….” She bites her lip. “Really, I thought you hated the whole stereotypical red-horns-and-gleaming-pitchfork thing.”

He grins lecherously. “Well, darling, I don’t like red when it’s on _me._ ” He steps closer. “But that doesn’t preclude my enjoyment of the color when it adorns others.” And closer still. He leans forward, adding in a soft murmur by her ear, “Par _tic_ ularly you.”

Her lower body tightens, and she can’t help the audible swallow that closes up her throat.

“All right, all right,” Dan says with a clipped sigh as he steps out of the kitchen. “Break it up until later, okay?”

“Yeah, get a room,” Maze interjects from the sofa. “Don’t we have a turkey to fix?”

“There’s no _fixing_ the turkey, Maze!” Chloe snaps. “It’s fried!”

“Roasted,” Lucifer interjects. “Divinely so, but _roasted_.”

Ella snorts again. “Dude, it’s _so_ fried.”

“But—”

“So, who wants pepperoni on their pizza?” Linda says, looking askance at them as she calls over the bickering din. The kitchen phone is clutched against her ear.

“I WANT PEPPERONI!” exclaims Trixie, bouncing in from the living room.  

Lucifer slumps against the doorframe, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Bloody bother. I tried.”

_~finis~_


End file.
